


It's Electric

by RoarinxRory



Category: Heroes (TV), Horrible Bosses (Movies)
Genre: Bite marks, Blood, Bruises, Electricity Play, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, S&M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 20:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7907020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoarinxRory/pseuds/RoarinxRory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take two psychos, put them together, and what do you get? A beautiful mix of blood lust, regular lust, and even some romance. Sylar never imagined that someone would accept him, let alone understand him, but then comes Rex, who adores Sylar's angels and his demons.</p><p>Post-Sylar breaking into a jail to steal a guard's ability and Rex tagging along on the way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Electric

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the verse of a larger piece I'm workin' on which will come in time and will hopefully outline the pretenses for this quick one. Enjoy (to the best of your abilities. This is pretty messed up and raunchy haha). --Rory

After a series of loud banging, curses in between long durations of deep kisses, and fumbling with shitty, rusty keys, Gabriel Sylar backs into the door of a ratty motel room, one Rex Hanson in his arms with lanky legs wrapped around the former’s waist. He grunts at the door knob jabbing at him but pushes through it regardless and kicks the door swiftly shut. In a calculated maneuver, he spins around and presses Rex to a wall, avoiding a patch of distastefully green, floral, peeling wallpaper. Raggedly, animalistically, Sylar growls. He nips at Rex’s bottom lip and then his jaw and then his neck. So possessive, so territorial about what’s  _ his _ , he devours that pretty little neck.

Conversely, Rex writhes, submissive to his wolf of a soulmate. “Fuck, Sylar! Did you hear how loud you made that bitch scream when you cut her up? You were unbelievable, Sy. God, you were so gorgeous.” His voice raises into a delighted, shrill laugh that would give the Joker a run for his money. Sylar’s hands are on his ass, nails scraping against Rex’s ridiculous skinny jeans, which are, by the way, restricting an uncomfortable tightness around his groin. Giggling wildly, Rex continues, “An-And the way her blood was just  _ everywhere _ … Shit, it turns me on so much.”

It’s a funny story, really. They were in a coffee shop where Sylar was wiring some of Rex’s father’s money into a separate bank account when a sweet, blonde chick settled into the computer next to them. Sylar didn’t even flinch when Rex briefly flashed her his teeth. He was, for the most part, playing very, very nice. Three million dollars later, Sylar cracked his knuckles and looked triumphantly to Rex, expecting sparkling baby blues to greet him. Of course, Sylar’s life is a cacophony of mischances and unpredictability, and he turned just in time to see Rex chuckle awkwardly and try to squirm out of the sweet blonde’s clutches. He grimaced as she invaded his personal bubble, and when her fingers curled around his wrist, Rex’s eyes widened in alarm. He could feel her, slimy and violating in his mind. Panickedly, he sought rescue from Sylar.

_ This crazy bitch has a fucking ability! _ The mental message that Sylar couldn’t actually hear but still managed to understand was accompanied by a dramatic jerk of his head, gesturing towards “this crazy bitch’s” firm grip.  _ C’mon, Sy, fuck her up. _ His thoughts were ripped from him as the girl’s will was imposed on his own, sinking her fangs into his conscience like a snake. Visibly, he lost control of himself, knees shaking, fingers twitching.

Meanwhile, Sylar had had enough, collectedly gathering up Rex and shooting icy glares at the girl. His stare was enough to drop her dead; his cold, ruthless aura seeped into the air; and the following sneer, the twisted curl of his lips, instilled the paralyzing fear in this woman that she was going to die. Rex behind him, Sylar narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, digging into her terror, drawing it out. He didn’t need this skank’s ability, this degenerated form of his own intuitive aptitude. Hell, he could figure people out  _ without _ having to touch them and read their minds… And then later, he could scalp them and poke at their brains as much as he liked because what the fuck were they going to do about it? In this moment, there was a carnal hunger to indulge in his inner serial killer. Luckily for Sylar, Rex always adored his murderous tendencies.

Back in the passionate heat of the absolutely disgusting motel room, Sylar grinds his hips roughly, eliciting a thrilled squeal from Rex, who’s almost begging for Sylar to manhandle him. He tears off Rex’s leather jacket and impatiently pulls at Rex’s shirt, just wanting the damn thing on the floor and away from that delectable chest. Sylar wants to eat up Rex and maybe, after every few bites, to taste, savor him. He despises how the stale odor of smoke, drugs, and sex gets in the way of the sensuality of a strictly Rex scent. 

Dragging his tongue over bruises, new and old, self-inflicted, from Sylar, or from various criminal acts, Sylar sensitizes Rex’s skin, tingling with wonderfully arousing vibrations. Rex relishes the attention, demanding that his ego be fed. He wriggles with anticipation, carding through Sylar’s slicked back locks, grappling for support on his still regrettably clothed shoulders. Neither of them are nearly naked enough.

“You’re so  _ special _ to me, Sy,” Rex grins wickedly. He knows what the word does to his lover, adrenaline coursing through his veins as his heart bangs faster in his chest, ready to burst. “I love you just the way you are, blood on your hands and all. You know that, right? I’ll always love you for you.” Sylar draws blood from Rex’s collar bone, and Rex simply basks in the mark, urging Sylar to do more, make him  _ his _ , drive him mad. He hisses with euphoric venom, his eyes dangerously, piercingly blue as he tilts Sylar’s chin up to catch him in an intense gaze, “I love that predator in you.” He glances over the entirety of Sylar, his strong, striking, alluring features, cackling, “I love your body!” He kisses him fiercely, ferociously, “I love your mind!” And lastly, as Rex lets Sylar toss him onto the bed face first, lets Sylar yank down his jeans, lets Sylar enter him completely unprepared, he moans into the old, worn, filthy mattress, “I love your cock, you fantastic son of a bitch!”

He’s in severe agony, blinding pain shooting through him, and yet, Rex keens his voice hoarse as he’s thoroughly screwed senseless. He can’t feel anything but  _ Sylar _ , and it’s terrifyingly sensational. The aggravating creaking of the bed, the burn of his face and elbows against the coarse top layer of mothball-infested sheets, the ache in his side from Sylar’s crushing grasp there all go numb as Sylar drives into him. Sylar is everywhere. He’s behind Rex, beside him, around him,  _ inside _ him. The idea is unequivocally, irrevocably blissful. These two abominations, thieves, liars, murderers, are flawless with their bodies slotted together. Demented and deranged as they may be, they deserve this impossibly small slice of paradise, which manages to matter the world to them both.

“Sy!” Rex cries out, his voice shattering, breaking, coming apart at the seams as Sylar’s fingertips brush against his abdomen, shocking his lover with short bursts of electricity. 

His heart sings as he claws desperately at the sheets, attempting to ground himself from the override of stimulation. His breath stutters, and stars litter his vision, and it’s nearly too much for Rex, his mouth ajar as he gasps and drools into the bed. “Yes, yes… Fuck!” he sobs. His elbows and knees are so damn sore, and his cock is throbbing and hard and neglected, and Rex Hanson can forget about going anywhere without Sylar’s help. Not only will he not be able to walk, but he won’t even be able to sit. He rocks as best as he can in time to Sylar’s thrusts, but he can’t concentrate worth shit, so he whines wantonly.

Sylar is falling out of tempo, but the jolts of electricity he’s sending through Rex come more frequently. As if Rex isn’t insane enough, Sylar is somehow accomplishing more. Rex’s words are jumbled concoctions of profanity, praises, and Sylar’s name. Sylar digs his nails into Rex’s side, leaving angry, red streaks and scratches underneath beads of blood. He bites hard into Rex’s shoulder, muffling strangled moans, conveying all of  _ his _ gratification. One hand finds the underside of Rex’s throat and applies a mild pressure, enough to dizzy Rex’s vision, heighten his senses, snap his voice in half. Then, Sylar empties all of himself into Rex, volt after volt after volt of electricity surging through his lover, pain, pleasure, heaven, hell, and all of the above swirling between them. Rex crackles with static, a bit of an orgasmic spasm seizing him whilst waves of completion shake him. He collapses gracelessly onto the bed, curling away from Sylar as he tries to regain himself, his long legs drawing together. His grip on the sheets clenches and unclenches, even as Sylar presses kisses to each of his bruises and bite marks. 

Rex is undone, really, honestly, truly fucked, but he glows. He swallows a shudder and inches ever closer to Sylar, Rex’s not-so-lone wolf. He pants, exhausted, and Rex isn’t sure whether he never wants to do this again or if he never wants it to stop. The primal, brutal, erotic violence in Sylar subsiding, Rex embraces the delicateness, tenderness his boyfriend displays. He’s pulled into Sylar’s chest.  _ Cuddling _ , he snickers internally.  _ He's apologizing to me _ . And as Sylar’s breath evens and slows, Rex’s eyelids grow heavy. He traces swirling patterns into Sylar’s bare skin, and he, before sleeping, ever more affectionately, projects his love.

They’re damaged people. That much is a given. Still, they’re opposite charges, rushes of energy flowing between them, exhilarating and liberating, and when he’s with his perfect little monster, Rex can’t feel more…  _ alive _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so, so much for reading! Thanks for beta-ing, Mar, and hopefully, I'll catch you in the next one~ <3 --Rory


End file.
